Lost And All That Was Left
by Firebreath Scarred
Summary: The never realised what pain he was in. The Order go to Privet Drive to find the boy they never really knew unresponsive and nearly lost to them. Very Dark. No slash.
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the poem. I have no money, don't sue.

Warning: Very dark, angst, mild child abuse and self harm.

Chapter 1

All that is left

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Didn't want you to die

I won't say good bye

Sit here and cry

And I know these tears are to stay.

Harry hadn't left the house since he had arrived home - if you could call it that. He had drifted into Dudley's second bedroom, and stayed there. Scattered across the floor were the few belongings he had chosen to take out of his bag. He often settled himself in a corner of the room, his head in his arms. When Harry did eat, it was little and he couldn't always keep it down.

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No matter what I do

I can't bring back you

Wish it weren't true -

But only memories remain. 

Harry's treasured photo album lay open, however the pictures in it were still just that - pictures. They weren't real, yet they seemed so lifelike. Whilst the images would go on grinning forever - Sirius would never smile again. That look of surprise would be forever etched upon his face. Harry yearned to fall into the happy photographs. To touch, smell, hear Sirius again. Now all Harry felt was numb.

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All I should've said

Echoes in my head

You're not the only dead

I know I'm dying too.

Oh Merlin, Sirius. Harry prayed his Uncle wouldn't have yet another bad day. His ribs still hurt from the last. If only he'd told Sirius. He barely even knew his Godfather. There was so much Harry could've done. Harry shook slightly. Everyone seemed to be ripped from his world before he got know, to trust them. Who would be next?

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Watch myself bleed

My own bloody deed

And where it'll lead

Will just be my own failure.

"Harry? Harry?!"

With a start Harry pushed the knife under some old clothes and pulled his sleeve down. A moment later the door swung open and Tonks - in her orange, curly haired glory - surveyed the dark room. Musty and stuffy, the dust and the dirt stifled all light. It was somewhat reminiscent of a funeral parlour.

"Harry?" Tonks enquired again, her voice only a whisper this time, "we're going to take you back to headquarters..."

Harry starred at the Auror wordless and lifelessly. He concentrated on the pain; his only focus.

"Come Harry."

Harry made no move to get up. He was detached from his own body. What little control he had, was gone. They pulled the strings, he did the dance.

Now Tonks was waving her hand in front of Harry's face and saying something. He couldn't hear her though. She tried to get him to his feet, but he wouldn't respond. Tonks looked over her shoulder and yelled something.

Harry was vaguely aware of Mad Eye Moody appearing, tapping him on the shoulder and looking into his eyes. Then Harry was suddenly hoisted into Moody's arms, he gave a cry at the pressure on his already damaged rubs. With a worried look Moody pulled up Harry's shirt, and blanched. He started shouting something Harry still couldn't hear.

They gave Harry a portkey, placing his hand on the time piece. The assembly of red heads and bushy hair waiting for him were immediately banished. The adults laid Harry on a table and stripped off his shirt.

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Red marker on sand paper.

Crimson blood on paper skin.

Nothing new, just what you couldn't see.

Dumbledore was fire called, but Harry remained staring in to nowhere. His eyes glazed, a sheet of ice surrounding him, shutting the rest of the world out. 

A charm in the air with a flick of a wand and a hand on Harry's forehead.

Harry Potter slowly turned to meet the gaze of Albus Dumbledore.

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All toys break

Your own mistake

A life that was fake

And here is all that's left.

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A/N Short because it's from Harry's pov and he's hardly in a state to take in very much.

Please review, all comments are very much appreciated.


	2. When You Realise

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Disclaimer: Do not own anything except the poem which may not be used without permission.

Lost and All That Was Left

Sword Wielder - Firebreath

Summary: They never realised what pain he was in. The Order go to Privet Drive to find the boy they never really knew unresponsive and nearly lost to them. Very Dark. No slash.

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Warnings: Mild child abuse and self harm

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Chapter 2

When You Realise

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What will you do

When you realise

Not what you thought

Not who you knew

When you've lost it all -

And it's gone:

All you believed in.

In truth Harry had never felt so tired before, even inspite of Dumbledore's spell. He felt like he was an old machine that had not been used for a very long time, but was slowly starting to work again, it's joints creaking and fuzzing along the way.

"Harry?" Dumbledore spoke softly, he didn't need to finish his sentence. The weight in his voice said it all. What had happened? What had become of the wizarding world's saviour. And how had it been hidden from him for all these years?

Harry lifted his eyes, not feeling particularly happy about the spell that had bought him back into focus, and slowly met his Headmaster's gaze. He didn't speak though. He didn't think he had the strength to, and didn't particularly want to either.

Harry concentrated on the pain.

"Harry please, we have to know what happened?" Dumbledore urged him, putting a pain numbing charm on Harry.

Harry frowned at his. Great. There went his leverage. Oh happy day! Now he was being compelled to swim back into the real world, to pay attention to Dumbledore. He honestly did not want to listen, or volunteer any information himself. If they couldn't work things out for themselves, he didn't care to tell them. He was just sorry he'd been in such a state that they had him caught. This had been going on for as long as he could remember. It was there for them to see as long as they had known him. Harry had even made hints in the past, left chances for them to find out. Yet no one had ever asked. They'd lost their chance.

"Was it the Dursleys, Harry," Dumbledore pressed on, "did they give you these injuries... did they drive you to hurt yourself?"

Harry refused to reply.

"Ok then... you leave me no choice, Moody could you please collect the Dursleys and bring them here - by force if necessary," Dumbledore ordered slowly, watching Harry as he did so.

"What?" Harry tried to sit up, but an arm kept him down, "no you can't!"

Dumbledore sighed, although felt some relief that Harry was finally responding to something.

"Will you talk to me then?" 

Harry looked away.

"Yes."

Everyone waited. Tonks was trembling, Moody stroking his mangled nose in a rather Dumbledore-ish manner, Dumbledore himself was unmoving. Lupin lurked in the 

corner of the room next to Snape, who was sorting through potions that might be needed as discretely as possible.

"I-" Harry began slowly, Dumbledore nodded encouragingly, "I'm sorry. I got into a muggle fight. It happens a lot where I live."

"He's lying," Snape spoke up, but you didn't need to be skilled in Occlumency to gather that much. 

"I know, thank you Severus," Dumbledore replied, "Harry I know very well the type of neighbourhood you come from. Some of these scars are years old."

"Dudley and I have always fought," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even, "a little like sibling rivalry I guess. My aunt and uncle always patched us up though and tried to stop us, though."

"Harry, I know you are lying," Dumbledore repeated again, speaking slowly as if Harry was a very young child, "Moody please go and get the Dursleys."

Harry found himself shaking. No. They couldn't find out. Vernon... he would be so angry. And Harry, Harry didn't want to remember, didn't want to think of all that had happened with the Dursleys.

"It's ok, Harry," Dumbledore tried to reassure Harry, noticing the boy's shivering, "I won't let him hurt you. It will be ok." 

Dumbledore reached out a hand to Harry, but the boy whimpered in panic.

"Here," Snape held out two potions, a calming draught and a healing concoction. Harry took them both, almost blind to what was happening due to his fear.

It was just as the calming draught began to work when Moody appeared through the floo. Vernon Dursley, in a full body bind was levitated next to him.

"His wife and son weren't home," Moody explained. At a nod from Dumbledore he expelled the hex holding Vernon.

For a moment it looked like he was going to launch himself on Harry, attacking everything. Vernon's face went a very deep purple, then he caught sight of the number of wizard's holding wands out at him, and his flesh became a very shallow yellow. He took three deep breaths.

"The boy disappeared an hour or so ago," Vernon said, trying to straighten himself up, "he hasn't been himself this summer and as a rule he's always been a bit prone to strange moods... So naturally we were very worried. There was no need to put through that.... thing. I would have come, I was just distressed. We err, we care for Harry very deeply, you see..."

"Of course, Mr Dursley," Dumbledore replied mildly, his eyes flickering to Harry's terrified expression at the sight of his Uncle, "I am very sorry to have had to call you here, and that there was such a misunderstanding on getting you here. Severus - would you give the poor man some tea - such an ordeal for someone to go through. Why, you must have been driven mad with worry."

Vernon seemed to wince slightly, but nodded eagerly at the perceived kindness. He dubiously accepted the tea Snape gave him, not appearing to notice the smirk. However he unthinkingly drank it all down, hoping it would seem polite.

Immediately he felt... detached. 

"Veritaserum, Mr Dursley," Snape sneered, "a strong truth potion that should ensure you will tell us what Mr Potter seems adamant not to."

Vernon's eyes bulged slightly at this, but due to the potion no other expression crossed his face.

Harry, if it was possible, looked even worse as he saw what the Headmaster intended to do, "please professor," Harry tried again, "he's just a muggle... the ministry..."

"It's alright, Harry," Dumbledore repeated again, "however if you would like to explain the truth..." Harry said nothing at this.

"Very well then," Dumbledore drew himself up, "you are Mr Vernon Dursley, Uncle and guardian to one Harry James Potter who was placed in your care October 31st, Halloween, fifteen years ago?"

"Yes."

"During your care of Harry did you in anyway mistreat him?"

"Yes," Vernon answered emotionlessly. All the adults seemed to twitch slightly, and many glanced at Harry, who was breathing quickly, each breath harsh and ragged.

"In what way?" Dumbledore continued.

There was no answer, in Veritaserum you had to ask question the subject could understand. In Vernon's case, whilst he knew what some of the stuff he had done to Harry was wrong he had no clue which parts were or weren't.

Dumbledore sighed and tried again.

"Are you in anyway reason for Mr Potter's injuries?"

"Yes."

"How exactly did he acquire them?"

"I beat him, and sometimes my son helped too."

Deadly silence filled the room, only Harry, close to hyperventilating now, could be heard panting.

"What else did you do, Mr Dursley?" Dumbledore asked, his voice ice cold, then he remembered to elaborate, "what did you do to Harry that you would not have done to your own son?"

"We kept him in the cupboard under the stairs until he was eleven, he was allowed into Dudley's second bedroom, but he moved back this holiday when we discovered his Godfather was dead. We dictated his letters for him. We put bars on the window of his old room before we moved him back to the cupboard. We often starved him. Usually ignored him. Gave him more chores than we knew he could complete. Gagged him during the night - he screamed in his sleep, you see. We wouldn't let him do his homework or have anything to do with that freak stuff, we went out of our way to make him miserable."

"You abused him verbally, psychologically and physically?" Dumbledore questioned for verification, his fist clenched around his wand, eyes alight with fury.

"Yes."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Ever since we go him - except the beatings. They started when he was four, and the chores only since he was... two or three I think. We were careful not to let him die." 

Gasps were heard throughout the room.

"Why?"

"He's a freak."

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop all the shouts that had gone up around the adults occupants of the room.

"Give him the counter potion, Severus."

His face white, Snape did so.

"What, what did you make me do? YOU-" Vernon spluttered and shouted, trying to get up. A flick of Moody's wand had him bound to the chair. 

"Vernon Dursley," Dumbledore towered over the muggle, "you have just admitted to one of the most hideous stories of abuse I have ever heard," yes, even now Dumbledore couldn't forget the young Tom Riddle who was lost to them all those many years ago, "I am restraining all the wizards in this room from cursing you as we speak, and if it weren't that I have already thought of something much worst and feel it best to handle you in... other ways, I would have let them and even joined them. I suggest you keep very quiet before I change my mind. If someone could be so kind as to move this.... this.... him to the basement while I attend to Harry."

Moody nodded and got up. 

Dumbledore sat down heavily beside Harry, looking sadly at his face. The potion had fixed the majority of his injuries (although Madam Pomfrey would surely be horrified and apply many more medicines later on), however Harry was still left exhausted and barely able to move.

"Harry?"

Harry looked away, he didn't want to see or talk to Dumbledore. What he had tried to prevent all his life had finally happened. All the masks he had created were pulled away.

"Harry - why didn't you tell anyone?" Dumbledore questioned numbly.

There was a pause as Harry tried to decide whether or not to reply.

"Why did you never ask?" he returned.

This seemed to suitably bring Dumbledore into silence.

"It was right in front of your eyes," Harry whispered quietly, "I understand."

"What do you understand, Harry?" Dumbledore was struggling to keep his composure.

There was a strange look on Harry's face, but suddenly he shook himself and the blank mask was back.

"Nothing, don't worry."

"No Harry, I think I would like to know what you were about to say."

"It's nothing. Will I be going back to the Dursleys."

Tonks choked out a sob at this.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore looked as if he was struggling to control himself, "you 

won't. Ever."

There was no question that Dumbledore would never let Harry back with the Dursleys.

"Would you like to stay with your friends?" Dumbledore asked gently. 

As if for the first time Harry looked around, taking in his surroundings... realising he was at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius.

"No," Harry answered, "I don't want to be with anyone."

What do you say

When you realise

You don't have an answer

You don't have wise words.

When the curtain is pulled

And you find

Wounds that won't heal.

***

Later that same day Albus Dumbledore walked along the corridor heading to the hospital wing of his beloved school in a state of melancholy. He had bought Harry to the hospital wing earlier. Lupin had agreed to stay at Hogwarts too in order to help try and reach Harry. The boy was now protesting at having anyone near him. However he did not seem to understand that he could not be left alone. They were sure the cuts up his arms were made by him, they had found a bloody knife to prove it. But as Harry was already upset Dumbledore was reluctant to bring it up and confront Harry, yet.

Now Dumbledore had just arrived back from putting Vernon and the other Dursleys into the custody of the Ministry and collecting Harry's few things from Hogwarts. He had also sent papers to the Ministry, requesting Harry become a ward. 

Harry Potter. Dumbledore suddenly realised that for all his careful watching of Harry over the years, the saviour in the prophesy, there was so much he had missed. How had Harry managed to keep this all a secret? What kind of magic had he used to cover it up? 

Dumbledore sighed. He had known the Summer holidays were going to be difficult. What with preparing the world against Voldemort. And he had known that he was going to have to help Harry immensely through the grieving of his Godfather. However he had never thought that something like this might happen. What was worse was what Voldemort might think if and when he found out. For the first time Dumbledore felt something close to despair. In fact anyone else with the sort of responsibilities Dumbledore carried (far too many to list) might have. But not Dumbledore, he would always stay strong, even if it was just by a few threads. Or at least he hoped so.

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What do you feel

When you realise

Something so pure

Something now lost

When you wished you'd known

What was fading

Infront of your eyes.

Meanwhile, the boy in question, Harry Potter lay with his face buried into the white mattress of the hospital wing bed. He had chucked away the pillow when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking. If it was up to Harry he would be sleeping on the floor, like he was used to. For now he didn't want to meet anyone's concerned glances. He wanted to form a wall between him and the world. A shield. Of course, he wanted his knife too, but he was trying not to think of that. Besides, he often went for months without his knife during the school year at Hogwarts. He didn't want to risk anyone finding out.

Anyone.

So Harry was left to cope with his own thoughts of self hatred alone. 

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All you wanted to be

All you had to do

All they thought you were

Is a lie.

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A/N 21st March 2004

I'm not quite sure about the format of the poem, I wrote it before the prose part, and wasn't entirely sure where to add it in. Tell me if you have any suggestions. Some of you have asked whether the other poem from Chapter 1 was written by me, the answer is yes. As is this one and so will all the others in this fic unless I say otherwise. Please don't take them without permission, I work very hard on all this stuff and put it up for your entertainment. (I sound like a machine here, eek I need caffeine). 

Thank you so, so, so much for the reviews!!! You all rock, and all your opinions were excellent and meant so much to me. Many of you asked whether last chapter whether Harry was committing suicide or just self harming. Well in truth, he doesn't know, neither do I. He was originally just releasing the pain through self harm, however he was in a state - if Tonks hadn't appeared when she did who knows how far he might have gone.

I also realise that this particular scene, well indeed this whole fic, has been done before many times. I am trying to add stuff to it, and I hope you will find some twists and surprises. However I also realise that you main find some similarities to other fics. These are done unintentionally, however I think it's just natural for plot bunnies to have similar features. I have done my best to make this as original as possible. But if anyone finds something that they feel has been taken from another fic, I apologise profusely and ask that you might email me. I am happy to discuss and change it if necessary. 

Thank you so much again for all the wonderful reviews, please keep them coming. They get the updates quicker, and I'm trying to make the length longer. Also any criticism is very much welcome.


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